A Light in the Dark
by liebedance
Summary: What are anniversaries but reminders of what could have been? What are birthdays but reminders of those no longer with us? A DAYDverse story


**Title**: Light in the Dark  
**Author**: liebedance  
**Beta**: agentdelaware  
**Disclaimer**: 1. This is a work of fan-fiction. 2. No money is made on this work. 3. JKR retains her rights. 4. thanfiction retains his portions.  
**Rating**: PG/PG-13  
**WIP/Length**: Complete/  
**Main Character**: Mandy Brocklehurst  
**Warnings**: Dark?  
**Spoilers**: DAYD, Sluagh  
**Summary**: What are anniversaries but reminders of what could have been?  
**Author's Notes**: Entry for the 1st Anniversary Contest, using the prompt of birthday or anniversary.

It was here again, another one, another reminder. Why were there so many? Yes, each one only came once a year. But when you combine them, it seemed as though the entire year was nothing more than a parade of them, falling one after another, barely giving you time to rest and recover. They just kept coming, darkening the days.

***

"Mandy! Get dressed! The guests will arrive any time now!" Her mother said as she walked into her daughter's room.

"No, Mummy!" Mandy cried back. "I don't want to! I don't want to! I don't want to!"

"But, sweetie, it's your birthday! You're five today, a big girl. Your cousins and grandparents are coming to celebrate. Don't you want to play and have cake?"

"Just granma, granpa, and cousins?" Mandy asked with trepidation in her voice.

"Just them, I promise." Her mother said, pulling her daughter into a hug. "No strangers, just family."

"Okay," Mandy agreed.

"Good," her mother smiled, "now put on your pretty dress and come downstairs. Daddy is waiting."

Mandy nodded as her mother left the room. She was a big girl, after all. She could get ready all by herself.

"It's okay," Mandy whispered to her stuffed animals as she put on her shiny black shoes. "There won't be lots of people there. Mummy promised. And we'll finish the story when I come back."

***

They were everywhere. They haunted her. Celebrations of lost hope.

Why celebrate her birthday? Why was she forced to age another year when Padma, Lisa, Mike, Terry, and Stephen were not allowed to even reach two decades?

She remembered the birthdays at Hogwarts, the parties so full of students carefree and happy. From what she'd heard from Padma, the celebrations in the Ravenclaw tower weren't nearly as extravagant as those of Gryffindor, but they were bigger than any she'd had at home.

The noise, the people, the joy… If she closed her eyes she could still see Mike and Terry sitting in the corner whispering about something only the two of them would understand. She could hear Stewart playing his guitar. She could feel Padma's hand pulling her up from the couch and they would sing and dance the songs and movements of Padma's heritage.

Mandy hated it for all the attention and loved it for the freedom and loved it even more now that it couldn't happen. Now that it was gone.

***

It just didn't seem right. May 2: the anniversary of a victory that was much more of a loss. Why celebrate the massacre and maiming of an entire generation?

One year passed, two years, three. It never got easier seeing Li without legs or Jimmy's marred face, Susan's lonely eyes or Tony's prosthetic legs. It was never less painful to miss the dead or wonder why Seamus had disappeared. She never got used to these things, but she became accustomed to the pain so that it became more dull and easier to ignore.

***

"Mandy, please," Mandy's mother said as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror, curling her hair with her wand.

"I don't want to go, Mummy," she whispered from the corner where she stood. "Why can't I just stay home?"

"Because you're only nine and we couldn't get a sitter," her mother answered. "We've been over this. I know you don't want to go, but you simply do not have a choice."

"Do we have to go?"

"Amanda," her mother's voice was stern, "This is your father and my fifteenth anniversary and your grandparents are throwing us a party. You're going. That is it. End of discussion. Go get dressed."

Mandy didn't answer as she left the bathroom and walked down the darkening hallway to her own bedroom.

Thirty minutes later she stood in the corner of a crowded room. Too many strangers. Too many people coming up to her, mussing her hair, and telling her how great it was that her parents were so happy after a decade and a half.

"They're cutting the cake now," a young woman told Mandy. "Come on; come wish your Mama and Papa a happy anniversary."The stranger reached out and grabbed Mandy's hand. Mandy's eyes widened, but she let herself be pulled towards the center of the room where her parents stood, smiling with glasses of champagne in their hands. Mandy watched as her parents talked and laughed amidst the sea of people.

Five minutes passed, and she could no longer see them. The shadows of the older witches and wizards cast her in the dark. She stood quietly, a plate of cake in one hand and tears streaming down her face.

***

Her anniversary. Wasn't she supposed to be happy that she and Bernie had lasted so long? But Susan hadn't even been allowed to spend a year with Ernie. Countless of her classmates hadn't even had the chance for love. And not even her love could remain untouched by pain. As whole as it was, even that happiness couldn't remain unbroken.

Their _other_ anniversary. The date she kicked him out. It wasn't something they talked about in the years to come. It wasn't marked on the calendar in the study. But she never forgot the day he came so close to ruining everything. And she could tell, by the look in his eyes each year, that he never forgot either.

And yet a third, when she let him come home.

***

Only her children's birthdays bring her joy instead of pain.

"Aren't you a big boy?" Bernie says as the two of them lift Patrick out of his crib.

"_A whole year old today_," Mandy adds, a smile in her thoughts. "_Don't worry, love. There's no party for you. But Daddy and I do have something downstairs."_

"For me?" Patrick asks, looking up at his parents with nothing less than complete trust.

"A special something for our special boy on his special day," Bernie says and laughs. Hearing his father, Patrick joins in. The small boy's giggling shrieks mixes with the man's deep chuckles. Mandy smiles.

_My boys,_ she thinks to herself. She takes her son from Bernie's arms and holds him close as she leans into her husband, relaxing as his arms fold around her.

It was here, another one. But unlike the others, there was something other than lonely reminders of what could've been. There was hope.

It would be the same the next year, and the year after that. And it would be the same with Charity and Victoria, too. Through all the anniversaries, the lost birthdays, and the nightmares she would have these. These beacons of light in the dark.


End file.
